Christine Stoddard

Christine Stoddard

Bio

Originally from Virginia, Christine Stoddard is a Salvadoran-Scottish-American writer and artist. She also is the founding editor of Quail Bell Magazine, a place for real and unreal stories from around the world. Her art and stories have appeared in Cosmopolitan, Bustle,The Huffington Post, Vivala, The Feminist Wire, the New York Transit Museum, Philly Fringe Fest, and beyond. She also is the author of Hispanic and Latino Heritage in Virginia (The History Press, 2016). In 2014, Folio Magazine named Christine one of the media industry's top visionaries in their 20s.

Christine Stoddard Articles

It really had been a perfect day. Image: Andrew Itaga/Unsplash.

I Was Shamed For My Budget Wedding, But I Have No Regrets

Some people think that the size and budget of your wedding reflect how much love you and your partner have for each other: The bigger the wedding, the bigger the love. On the other hand, my father likes to joke, “The bigger the wedding, the bigger the divorce.”

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"When I told my husband that his relative comfort on a city street is evidence of his male privilege, the look on his face implied that this was news to him." Image: Thinkstock

Explaining To A Man What It's Like To Be A Woman And Afraid

My now-husband was stunned the first time I told him what I do while walking alone. I mentioned behavior typical of so many city-dwelling women: carrying pepper spray, checking my back every block, trying to look confident while struggling to properly breathe. After a moment of silence, he teared up and said, “I don’t want you to have to worry.”

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We need to make women of all faiths feel included. (Image:Thinkstock)

I'm A Non-Religious Woman, But I Respect Religious Women 

Though I was raised in an interdenominational household, my upbringing could at best be described as vaguely Christian.

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Photo: courtesy of the author.

How Drag Queens Like Lady Bunny Inspire A Straight Biracial Woman Like Me

Drag queens, like Lady Bunny, teach outsiders to embrace ourselves and to embrace others. That means doing more than demonstrating tolerance.

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Patsy Cline and husband Charlie Dick's graves in Shenandoah Memorial Park, VA. Image: Sarah Stierch (CC BY 4.0)

Visiting The Grave Of Patsy Cline, A Hero I Didn't Know I Had

[CN: mention of intimate partner violence] Patsy Cline sang with such a beautiful range of emotion because she had experienced so many ups and downs in her own life.

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Illustrations by Ajah Courts (http://cargocollective.com/ajahcourts/Quail-Bell)

China Street: Fiction From Quail Bell Magazine

The moon sauntered out from a curtain of clouds, whispering, “All things must end.”

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"Our wedding took place one May morning, outside of a historic house that overlooks the river running through our college town." Image: Pixabay, Veton Ethemi

I Am An Artist Who Married Young, And I Feel Like The Only One

In art school, conversations about the merits of polyamory thrived, but hearing anyone express a genuine desire to get married almost never happened. It was almost taboo. The implication was, how could you want something so traditional? So suburban and unimaginative?

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All illustrations by Kristen Rebelo

My Encounter with a 'Non-Racist' in Fear of a Black Neighborhood

Black—the whispered word in educated, politically correct, upper middle class society.

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Emotionally, there were times I longed for a hint of my Salvadoran heritage in my name.

Why My Immigrant Parent Gave Me Such An “American” Name

Plenty of Americans have names that don't convey their full cultural background because, at this point, so many of us are mixed up. How could our names possibly communicate all that we are? But when the time comes for an interracial, interethnic, international couple to name their child, they're often faced with a political decision.

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Though my father meant it as a compliment, the word “othered” my mother, younger sisters, and me.

When Your White Father Calls You "Exotic"

For years, my white father called my mother’s beauty an “exotic” beauty. When I started to come into my own, he began calling me “exotic,” too. It wasn’t until high school that I began to understand why this word bothered me. Though my father meant it as a compliment, the word “othered” my mother, younger sisters, and me.

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